


Four People Alan Bradley Never Met (and One He Did)

by swamplamp



Category: Firefly, Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling, Men Who Stare at Goats (2009), Star Trek: The Original Series, Tron: Legacy (2010)
Genre: A GIANT HONKING CROSSOVER, F/M, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-09-10
Updated: 2015-09-01
Packaged: 2018-04-18 10:26:00
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 2,777
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4702604
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/swamplamp/pseuds/swamplamp
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Alan searches and finds the unexpected, one after the other.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. to explore strange new worlds

Alan understood why Lora had chosen the job opportunity over him. He was all right with it. If there were better prospects for her in waiting, he wouldn't stop her. It was a silent agreement between them. He was fine. As long as she was happy.

It was a relief that Flynn had given him quite a workload upon returning to work that Monday. Flynn knew him well. He was greeted with a sympathetic pat on the back. Now he and Alan had one more thing in common.

Alan was beginning to transition into normalcy before he met an interesting woman who visited ENCOM and inquired about the company's quantum transportation research. Her name was Christine Chapel.

Flynn had flashed Alan a wide grin upon their first meeting with her. Alan considered that look as a warning sign: Flynn had an idea and it meant danger for everyone involved.

"My team is searching throughout all of California for a solution," she explained. "It's not often that I'm allowed away team duty, especially on such a unique mission. Thank you for your cooperation, Mr. Flynn. Mr. Bradley."

Somehow, two days later, Alan found himself at an Italian restaurant, sitting face-to-face with Christine Chapel. _Flynn_.

"This wasn't your idea, was it, Mr. Bradley?" she asked, amused by the surprised look on Alan's face.

"No, it wasn't," he answered, searching for and sputtering out an answer that didn't sound like a rejection. "That's not to say that it isn't a pleasant surprise," he added and inwardly cringed. It had been a while since his last attempt at being charming. But she laughed, not unkindly, and picked up a menu.

He found that she enjoyed her company, and she seemed to be interested in what Alan had to say. He spoke about his work with ENCOM and she listened intently. She possessed an otherworldly awareness and was full of surprises.

A chirping sound came from her purse. She took out a pager-like device, excusing herself. She returned shortly after, looking worried.

"Is everything alright?"

"Oh, I'm sorry. It's just my job is all, Alan." She had told him that she was a nurse and her team was based in San Francisco, nothing more. And yet she was obviously familiar with complex scientific subjects beyond her field of study. She was strange, but fascinating.

He caught her examining the dollar bills he paid for dinner with. "It's the least I can do, Christine. I appreciated the company."

They ended up laying atop the roof of Alan's house, quietly staring up at the stars with a bottle of wine. He had never done this with Lora. She always had somewhere for them to go. Truth be told, Alan preferred staying in and relaxing with her. But she was on the other side of the country, most likely not taking the time to tear her attention from what was going on down there to just look up.

And that didn't matter now. What mattered was the contemplative look on Christine's face as she gazed up at the sky, as if she were counting the stars.

"I was engaged once," she said, breaking the silence. "But he went missing. I spent five years searching for him, certain that he was somewhere out there."

"And what happened to him?"

She turned to him, mustering up an answer that Alan hurt for her to form. "He was never found."

Alan couldn't imagine what that would've been like. To search for someone he loved, not knowing where to look or what to think, was completely beyond him.

"I threw away my life's work in hopes that I would find him. I took a job that took me on quite a ride." She paused, and gathered her thoughts for a moment. "And it was one of the best decisions I've ever made."

Alan took Christine's hand in his, and she responded with a tearful smile. She was beautiful.

"I can't stay long, Alan," she said, taking away her hand carefully. "Your friend Flynn knows that too. I told him that I was leaving no sooner than a week from now. I'm sorry."

"Where are you going?" he asked, not expecting a straight answer. It was worth a shot.

"Somewhere we won't be able to find each other."

"Then we'll make do with what we have now."


	2. mischief managed

Three days after Kevin's disappearance, a tense silence fell over the Flynn household. Sam was done yelling and searching, while Alan sunk into a place somewhere between catatonia and denial. They just needed time now.

Stepping out of the house was something Alan hadn't known he needed until he was in the closest bar he could find. It was a nice change. The place was more or less empty, but there were enough occupants to give Alan the impression that there were still a few living souls in this godforsaken city.

"To the men in our lives who vanish into thin air," Alan mumbled into his glass, then drank.

"I'll be drinking to that as well," a voice said from six feet away. A few seats from Alan sat a strange man with a tired look in his eyes and grey in his tawny brown hair, as if circumstance, not years, had aged him. Alan hadn't noticed him sitting there when he arrived.

"Sorry," the man said evenly. "Bad form. I shou--"

"No, I don't mind." Alan nodded.

"It's not so much of a rare occurrence, vanishing men. I know exactly where he's gone to, but it's somewhere I cannot follow. And s'not like I can simply say the right words and he will apparate onto my doorstep."

Judging by the way the man talked, he wasn't from around here and had already had a considerable amount of alcohol. Despite this observation, Alan couldn't bring himself to turn away from the company. There was something comfortable in the peculiarity.

The man studied Alan's face and likely noticed his amusement and confusion. Again, he shook his head at himself and apologized. Then he asked far more soberly, "Who did you lose?"

Alan decided to move closer to the stranger. "Someone I took for granted."

"And what happened to him?"

"I..." The question he's been asking himself for one too many days. "I don't know."

The stranger pursed his lips slightly in thought. "Perhaps it's better to not have known," he said, maybe more to himself than to Alan.

They sat quietly, sipping their drinks. "Here's to eight years of searching for what's already found," the man finally said, lifting his drink.

Oh.

He hadn't considered where he would be after these three days. Eight years from now, what if Kevin didn't come back?

"Speaking of, pardon my strangeness, but where are we? What city?"

Alan couldn't help but laugh. Interesting man. "You're in Los Angeles, friend."

The only reply was "Huh." Apparently, the information wouldn't have mattered either way.

He wondered if an introduction was appropriate for a meeting like this. It didn't matter. "I'm Alan."

"Remus," the man replied. "Remus Lupin."


	3. take my love, take my land

Working at ENCOM wasn't what it used to be. This was, of course, a conclusion he drew after witnessing the rapid crumbling of progress that Kevin Flynn himself built seven years ago. Technically, he wasn't supposed to be in the laser lab. No one was. But, today, he felt a bit vindictive. What's a little rule-breaking among--

"Mighty fine thingamajig you got here!"

Alan jumped out of his skin and looked behind him to find what looked to be a man wearing a dusty, brown coat and a smug expression. The man vaguely looked as if he were a character from a western.

The man put his hands up, saying, "Easy there. Didn't mean to startle."

Alan cleared his throat, letting his nerves settle. "I'm sorry. Do you work here?"

"No, not in the least. But by the looks of things, you do," he said, giving Alan a once-over. "That's why I need your help."

"Now, why would I help you?"

"Because I ain't in the rightly sector of the 'verse. I need you to take this great, big laser and put me back where I belong. _Dong ma?_ "

This was more than Alan could process today.

"Shiny, we've got a live one," the man muttered. He stepped closer to Alan and said, "Listen, my crew is destruction-bound without their brave and manly captain aboard. Who would be me. They're clueless of my whereabouts, or-- when... abouts. What year is it?"

"1996."

" _Hou zi de--_!" he exclaimed. "Wrong, wrong century. So, are you willing to extend a helping hand, 'cause I ain't lookin' to stay any longer than I have to."

Alan had no choice but to disregard the many questions rattling around in his head and let his outer consciousness take charge. So, maybe it didn't entirely make sense for a software company to have this kind of technology on hand. Not if anomalies such as these were to happen. He uncovered the long-defunct laser, memories of Lora flooding into his mind. If only she was there. This was a bit beyond his expertise, but she had taught him enough to get by, as did Kevin every now and then. But... time travel?

"You came at a good time," Alan said, keeping an eye on the man who was wandering around the lab. "The company had just made the decision to close down this department indefinitely."

"And this company would be...?" the man replied, not entirely interested.

"ENCOM. A good man once ran the place. One that would've never put all this research to waste."

"It's quite an attraction that the phrases 'good man' and 'laser research' are featured in the same sentence. As someone with authority over the matter, I warn you that both are increasingly tricky to come by in the future. You best hold the former nearly and dearly to your heart."

"I don't think I can anymore. He's gone."

"Well," the man turned to him, reading Alan's expression and evening out his tone. "There you go. First step toward extinction."

Alan didn't stop to think about what any of this meant. If this stranger intended to sabotage the equipment, he felt that it didn't matter at this point. _Take the whole damn building with you for all I care._ Destructive desires aside, he wanted to see what he could do with this. He fiddled with the switches in finality. In theory, this could work. But that didn't look right.

"Here," the man pushed passed him a bit. Alan doubted that he was any more knowledgeable than-- "And we're good to go. Fire it up, doc."

"But how--?" Alan was surprised, if not impressed.

"You underestimate the power of dashingly handsome men like me."

Shaking his head, Alan positioned the laser and set the transference process in motion. Full of himself, but brilliant. He thought that he had his fill of men like him. But no. Maybe he missed it. "Wait," he said over the whirring of the laser. "Who are you?"

"Captain Malcolm Reynolds," the man said. "Be sure to recycle and stuff."

And inch by inch, he was gone.


	4. their gentleness is their strength

With Sam in college now, it meant another Flynn was out of his hands and the house was too quiet. Alan had taken to frequenting bars around the streets of Flynn's old neighborhood, as if a part of him believed that Kevin would take the seat next to his one day. The bar that he found his way into was empty, save for a smattering of weirdos who filled their respective corner.

Today, however, a particular weirdo caught his eye.

Alan found that there was something strikingly familiar about Bill Django. He was listening to the man go on and on about a theory of his but, that night, all he could think of was Kevin. Alan was never one to talk up strange men in bars, save for a few occasions, but he wanted to stay in Bill's presence for reasons that he couldn't place.

Bill was an older man who had long, braided hair, smelled vaguely of marijuana leaf, and was pouring his heart and soul into the conversation. "I pass by those goats every day and I hear them rattling around in that container. I fucking swear there's something they're trying to tell me, man! You know what I mean?"

"I can't say that I do," Alan replied slowly. Kevin and his crazy ideas. A lot like this Bill Django.

"Now, I'm not creepin' you out with all this crazy-talk, am I, Alan?"

He even said his name like Kevin used to. "No. No, I'm fine here."

"That's good. Really good." Bill paused and looked at Alan, narrowing his eyes. It made Alan feel self-conscious. Bill smiled slyly and Alan felt like he knew that smile. Then he said, matter-of-factly, "You think you know me from somewhere. I'm not who you're looking for. Don't give up hope, Alan Bradley."


	5. wouldn't that be something?

It was the second page he had received in more than twenty years. This page was followed by Alan driving faster than he had driven in all his life. All that he was instructed to do was come to Flynn's Arcade, but he knew that it meant so much more. Hundreds of possibilities ran through his head.

But no amount of speculation could've prepared him to see a young girl standing by Sam's Ducati. He climbed out of his car and looked at her as she stared back at him with her eyes as bright as circuit sparks.

She tilted her head slightly, then said, "He's waiting for you."

He felt his heart sputter and his head reel. Those were the words he'd been waiting on for far too long. He ran into the arcade, running past the girl whilst resisting the urge to hug her. Alan knew he would come back for him. Kevin Flynn's name rung out like a heartbeat.

He stopped dead in his tracks. It was a bearded man in white robes standing between the rows of dusty machines. But that smile. Alan asked warily, "Are you...?"

The man looked surprised and the familiar smile faltered. He took a step closer to Alan, studying his face. The look on his face that Alan once knew so well returned in full force and he said, "Do I know you from somewhere?"

He took in a shuddering breath. "Kevin."

He placed a hand on Alan's cheek, wiping away a tear. They fell into each other in a tight embrace. Of all things, Alan first noticed that Kevin smelled different. But it was still him, in all his glory.

"You look good," Kevin said.

"Me? God, I look terrible. But you..."

"Yeah. I know. Still as handsome as ever, right?" Kevin laughed. He then traced lines along Alan's fingers. "You haven't given up on me, have you?"

"No," Alan answered. "I knew I'd see you again."

They wrenched apart from each other when the doorway behind the Tron machine creaked open to reveal a smiling Sam. Two Flynns in one room. Alan never thought he'd be able to see this again.

Sam looked at them both and put a hand on each of their shoulders. And he seemed oddly taller than before. He turned to Alan and said, "We're taking back the company." Then to Kevin: "Quorra and I have got work to do."

Before Sam and the girl even turned the corner as they drove away, Alan pushed Kevin against his car and kissed him roughly. Kevin moaned against his mouth, dragging his hips against Alan.

"Wait," Kevin said, pulling away only slightly. "I wanna do this right. Take me home, Alan."

And that was what he did. By the time they got through the doorway, they were practically tearing each other's clothes off, Kevin chuckling at how Alan still wore so many layers. They practically fell into the kitchen, Kevin--now unfamiliar with Alan's house--leading the way. It didn't matter.

Dragging Alan on top of the kitchen table, Kevin fucked him with quick, shallow thrusts and a neediness that only accompanied twenty years of waiting. The noises they made chased away the stagnant silence that once occupied the house. Alan forgot how good this could be, listening to the string of obscenities and praises that Kevin groaned against his neck.

After, they found their way to the bedroom. They started over but slowly, both wanting to reintroduce one another to everything new and old. Alan listened to Kevin's slowing breath against his back and drifted to sleep, thinking that this was the perfect end to a strange twenty years of stumbling.

**Author's Note:**

> Fill for a prompt on [tronkinkmeme](http://tronkinkmeme.livejournal.com/3162.html?thread=2137178#t2137178).
> 
>  
> 
> _2/22/2011_


End file.
